Far From Life
by Glittercat33
Summary: ***MAJOR FFH SPOILERS*** Spiderman isn't impenetrable. He's not bulletproof, not perfect. Collection of Spiderman whump, one-shots, two-shots. May contain character death.
1. Bullet Train pt 1

_I've been gone for awhile... sorry hehe_

_Check out my other Spiderman fanfics, A Leap of Faith and The Pain of Existing! Both are something for you if you enjoy this story!_

_Forgive me if I forgot some of the details of the scene, I only saw it once and I suck at remembering things._

_***WARNING: FFH SPOILERS!***_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel.**_

* * *

Peter's P.O.V.

The world around me keeps changing, the hits keep coming. I can hear Mysterio's faint cackle coming at me from all directions, but I can't see him anywhere. We've been fighting for a while now, in the illusion he created. He wants to kill me. And, in this illusion, he probably could. Nobody's coming to help, to rescue me. And why should they? I'm a superhero, after all. Superheroes don't need saving.

The fight continues, Mysterio having the upper hand against me. I can't even fight back against him. After all, you can't fight what you can't see. Just as I was beginning to give up, the illusion around me fades away as Mysterio shoves me backwards. For a moment, I had hope that I could retaliate against his attacks, when everything goes black.

* * *

Third Person P.O.V.

Mysterio smirked to himself. Shutting down his illusion, he took a step toward Spiderman and pushed him backwards. The young hero immediately got hit by an oncoming bullet train, the impact of which should've killed him instantly. Mysterio, satisfied with his work, flew back to Prague to meet with his team.

Meanwhile...

Happy Hogan was having a regular day. Actually, it was a rather nice day, as he had gotten to hang out with May earlier. But the nice day he had been having was completely shattered by just one little notification:

**Spiderman: Critical condition. Location: Currently in motion, heading towards Broek Op Langedijk, Netherlands. **

Happy dropped his phone in shock, before coming to his senses. Moving quickly, he grabbed his phone, headed to the private jet, and entered Peter's location into the computer. Soon enough, he was off.

After about an hour of flying, and a short nap, Happy had reached Peter's location. He had stopped moving, so Happy had hope of finding him. Using Peter's tracker to find his location, Happy followed the little blip on the map until he came across a large field of tulips. The location tracker had said Peter was here, so Happy sighed heavily and began searching among the flowers.

Eventually, Happy found a patch of tulips that were rather trampled, and decided to check it out. And what he found would change his life forever.

* * *

_Short, I know. Well let me know what you think, and I'll update sooner with motivation too!_

_Again, check out my other fics, and vote on my poll while you're at it! Thanks everyone!_


	2. Bullet Train pt 2

_Ok, I'm back! I really wanted to finish this two-shot quickly so I can move on to the next idea! I might put some of the choices on my poll in this collection instead, but leave a review if you have any requests!_

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel._**

* * *

Third Person P.O.V.

Happy froze. No, no, no, no, this wasn't happening, it can't be real. In the patch of wrecked tulips, was a body. More specifically, the body of a teenage boy in what looked like the remains of a Spiderman suit. Peter. Wasting no time, Happy carefully picked up the young hero bridal style and carried him to the jet. He put Peter down on a couple of the seats, and hurried to the cockpit to set the coordinates. Once that was done, Happy was at Peter's side, frantically trying to remove the suit to get a better look at his injuries.

He took some scissors, gently, but briskly, cutting away at the tight fabric. He peeled off the suit, piece by piece, until he could see the pattern of cuts and bruises dancing across Peter's skin. Some parts weren't bad, but others made Happy grimace at the sight of them. He was going to need stitches, judging by the look of some of the cuts. Happy tentatively pressed down on each of Peter's ribs, trying to feel for breaks or get a reaction out of the teen. On the fourth rib he touched, Peter stirred a little in his unconsciousness. The rib, which Happy kept poking and prodding, seemed to be fractured. It was still in place, luckily. He kept going down the rows of ribs on both sides, getting a few more tiny reactions from a still unconscious Peter.

The poor kid had several fractured ribs, mostly on his right side, and most likely a concussion too. And that's just what Happy could find, 40,000 feet in the sky on a private jet with limited supplies. At least Peter had accelerated healing, but even so it would still take him a few days to recover. Happy did what he could for the rest of the flight, cleaning and disinfecting cuts, stitching up a couple of wounds that were leaking too much blood, trying to contact the rest of the Avengers.

Eventually, they landed, and were met by Bruce, or, er, Professor Hulk, who took Peter into a safe location with his medical supplies.

Happy waited outside the door. Professor Hulk had said that he was allowed to be there with Peter, but he had declined. Happy was rather worried about what he was supposed to tell May. Should he tell May? He thought so, but what would that say about him? And if he didn't tell her, what would that say? Happy went back and forth in his mind for awhile, waiting on the professor to come out. He must've been out there for hours, having an internal argument with himself, before Professor Hulk finally came to get him.

"Peter's asleep. He suffered from 3 fractured ribs, a moderate concussion, and mild blood loss from the cuts. If you hadn't sewn those up, he might've not made it," he said seriously. "He's lucky. Do you know what happened?"

"Not yet," Happy sighed. "He hasn't really been awake since I found him." The professor gave him a curious look.

"Huh. When I was in there, working on his ribs, he was awake. Dazed, but conscious. And in a lot of pain, the poor kid." Happy nodded gravely. "You can see him if you'd like. He should be waking up soon."

"Sure. And, um... thanks. It means a lot to me," Happy admitted. "Deep down, I really like the kid." Bruce nodded.

"Of course. I'll be down the hall if you need me."

Happy took a deep breath before pushing open the door to Peter's room. He was sleeping, albeit not peacefully. He was breathing heavily, his hands fisting the sheet. He looked like he was in pain, which, of course, was understandable. Happy frowned at the superhero in front of him, who looked more like a Spiderboy than a Spiderman. The kid was only 16, and he's dealt with more than your average adult. Happy was not happy.

* * *

Peter awoke to the sound of beeping. Funny, he didn't remember falling asleep. The beeping was getting faster as his eyes focused. Taking in his surroundings, Peter got even more freaked out. Where was he? And who's the person in the chair? He sat up quickly, instantly regretting it as his vision fogged over for a few moments before passing. He groaned, putting a hand to his head, and waking up the person in the chair.

"...Peter?" Wait. He knew that voice.

"H...ap...py?" He asked slowly, being careful not to stumble over his words. "Where... am I?"

"Just calm down, everything's ok. I found you in a tulip field unconscious. You're lucky you have a tracker, or else you would be a goner," Happy speculated.

"Tulip?" Peter wondered.

"Yeah, kid. Tulips. In the Netherlands, too."

"How-"

"That's what I wanted to know," Happy interrupted. "Do you remember anything?" Peter racked his brain for something, some detail that could give him some kind of clue to what happened.

"Green," he finally decided.

"Green." Happy looked annoyed, which wasn't unusual. "That's it?" Peter frowned, shutting his eyes. Everything was so foggy. He couldn't think straight.

"Pain," Peter grimaced. "Much pain."

"Ok kid, you need to lie down." Happy carefully pushed Peter down so he was back where he started. "Are you in pain now?" Peter nodded. "Alright, let me see..."

"Good." Peter smiled woozily.

"Get some sleep," Happy said, concern dripping down and soaking his words with worry. Peter was out within seconds.

* * *

"Wha...?"

"Do you remember anything?" Happy asked, getting straight to the point.

"What, no 'are you ok' or 'I'm so glad you're awake'?" Peter complained. Happy rolled his eyes, but was still satisfied with his speech.

"Well, I've already been through this a few times today. Don't you remember waking up before?" He questioned.

"No? Wait, how long was I out?" Happy checked his watch.

"Around 7 hours, maybe more. I kinda lost count after awhile. You've woken up four times, not including this one," he informed. "Do you remember what happened?" Peter looked deep in thought, before lighting up in a kind of "ah-ha!" moment.

"Mysterio. He was using his illusions to confuse me. I think he pushed me in front of a train," Peter mused.

"He WHAT?!" Happy exclaimed. Peter groaned, covering his ears quickly.

"Quiet," he whispered. Sitting up, he questioned, "What about Ned and MJ?"

"What about them?" The concern grew on Peter's face as he realized what had happened.

"They know about Mysterio's illusions. That's why he tried to kill me, because I knew about them. And now he's going after them!" Peter pushed the sheets aside, tossing his legs over the side of the bed. He stepped down, immediately crumpling to the ground.

"You're in no shape to go after him. We'll have to send someone else." Happy carefully picked Peter up off the ground, putting him back in his bed.

"But I need to do it. I'm the one who screwed up. I have to fix it!" Peter pleaded.

"No. I'll send someone else to do it, and that's final. Now, you need to get some rest." He put his hand on Peter's chest, pushing him down again.

"Um, ow?!" He whined. Happy silently handed him the morphine pump.

"Get some rest." Peter pouted to himself for a moment, before deciding he was tired and falling asleep.

* * *

Peter woke up to another familiar voice.

"Peter!"

"Is he ok?"

"What happened?"

Actually, make that three familiar voices. He opened his eyes slowly, allowing the light of the room in. He made out four shapes in the corner, which were coming into focus.

"May?" Peter wondered. One of the figures came to his side, placing a gentle hand in his hair, which was matted to his head with sweat.

"I'm here, honey. Are you ok?" He nodded, leaning in slightly to the cool touch. He hadn't realized how hot he felt until now. "Ned and MJ are here too. We all came to see you."

"Ned? MJ? You guys are ok?" Peter questioned.

"We're ok. What happened to you?" Ned asked.

"Yeah, you look horrible."

"Wow, thanks MJ. I was hit by a train. I think." A collective gasp rose from the three newcomers.

"Seriously?" Ned wondered. "That is so cool! Or, uh, so not cool. Glad you're ok."

"Thanks Ned," Peter chuckled. "How'd you escape Mysterio?"

"Oh, it was so awesome! This really cool space woman flew down and just like, obliterated Mysterio! She flew off really quickly, but it was the coolest thing I'd ever seen!"

"Captain Marvel showed up?" Peter questioned, amazed.

"Yeah! She was the coolest! I don't know why they don't just send her in to fight, 'cause she'll win every time. She completely OBLITERATED Mysterio!" Ned yelled enthusiastically.

"That does sound pretty cool..." Peter trailed off.

"Alright losers, not like hearing you guys fangirl isn't fun or anything, but can we change the subject?" MJ sassed.

"Peter, why don't you get some more sleep? We can catch up with everybody later," May suggested.

"M'kay." And just like that, he was out.

* * *

_Yay I finished! It's only like 2:15 AM haha, so tomorrow's gonna be fun..._

_I hope you liked it! Leave a review or follow/favorite for more!_


	3. Bee Sting

_Hi again! Trying to update this as much as possible... leave suggestions or prompts in the reviews, or PM me if you'd rather do that. Anything goes._

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel, Star Wars, or LEGO.**_

* * *

Peter's P.O.V.

"Hey Ned!" I shouted. "Get over here!" Ned scurried over to our lockers, looking slightly pink. "Really Ned, you just broke up with Betty. Now you're talking to Sara?"

"Hey, for your information she's actually really into me, and she's pretty and smart and-"

"Ok, ok, I get your point. Are you still coming over after school?" I question.

"Yeah, sure. I'll meet you outside the lobby after class."

"Alright. Bye Ned!" I give him a small wave, and head to chemistry. Usually, this was my favorite class, but today I couldn't wait for it to end. Ned had gotten a new LEGO kit, this time of the Millennium Falcon. I was super excited to build it, even though I would miss patrol. Queens can handle a few hours without Spiderman, right?

After chem, I walked down the halls to the lobby, meeting Ned when I got there.

"Why don't we walk back to my house? It's a nice day, and it's not too far. I don't want to take the subway today," Ned suggested.

"Cool. Let me text May first, so she knows where I am."

_ I'm going to Ned's_

**Alright, be home in time ****for dinner.**

**I'm making spaghetti and meatballs tonight.**

_ K thx_

"Alright, let's go."

It was a nice walk, especially on a sunny day like this one. As we walked past the park, I felt an insect crawling on my arm. Without thinking, I swatted at it.

"Why'd you just smack that bee?" Ned wondered.

"That was a bee?" I got worried for a second. I've never gotten stung before. I quickly shrug it off, the bee probably already flew away. Oh, how wrong I was.

"Ow!" I exclaim, feeling a sharp pain in my arm. The little bee flies off, satisfied with its work. I inspect the small red spot on my arm, staring at the stinger under my skin. I'll have to get that out later.

"Dude, you ok?" Ned asked.

"Uhh," I hesitate, still staring at the tiny stinger embedded in my arm. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."

"Oh, good. You looked real spaced out for a moment there."

"No, no, I'm fiflpf." Ned looks at me questionably, and I shrug. "I'mf fiflpf. Fiflphif."

"Uh, Peter?" Ned looked worried now. "I don't think you're fine." I'm panicking too, freaking out over my sudden inability to speak. "You look really puffy, you need to go to the hospital." His voice raised with every word. My face was swelling up, making it hard to see and impossible to make sense of my words. I start to wheeze, finding it hard to breathe right. I feel like I'm choking on air.

"We need a doctor!" Ned screamed. "Can anybody help him?" I collapse, and everything goes black.

* * *

Ned's P.O.V.

Peter's on the ground, passed out. His face is puffy, and turning blue rather quickly.

"Help! Can't anybody help?!" I scream. A small crowd gathers around Peter. I crouch down next to him, picking his head up off the ground. He's completely limp, and his face is an alarming blue violet.

"I called 911," one of the people gives me an uneasy smile. I nod thankfully.

"HELP!" I yell once again.

"Stand back, let me through," a woman holding a small object sneaks through the crowd. I let her get close, and she stabs Peter with the object!

"Hey!" I frown. "Why'd you do that?"

"She just saved his life," the same man who called 911 remarked. The woman points at the object, still in Peter's arm.

"Epipen," she smiles broadly. "He should wake up soon." She was right. Peter was breathing again, albeit inconsistently, but breathing all the same. My jaw drops a little at how quickly Peter was recovering. He was groaning, half awake.

"Thank you," I say, still impressed.

"No problem. By the way, I'm Suzie. And you might want to get one of these for your friend," she suggests, gesturing toward the Epipen.

"Yeah, that's smart." I can hear the ambulance in the background, coming to get Peter. Remembering why he shouldn't go to the hospital, I ruffle through his bag to get his phone. Pressing his finger to the touchID, I look through his contacts until I find the one I'm looking for.

"Seriously? I'll be right there."

"Hurry, the ambulance is coming." I hang up, putting Peter's phone back. By now, he's almost fully conscious, being tended to by Suzie. I feel bad for not really helping, but as the guy in the chair, I'm doing my job.

* * *

Peter's P.O.V.

Sirens. I can hear sirens, and people talking. I feel sore, my throat is raw. I could really use a glass of water right about now. As the sirens fade away, I'm lifted into a pair of sturdy arms, which carry me into what I think is a car. And then it fades out again.

I wake up, for real this time, in a bed. It's not a hospital bed, it's way too comfy for that. Cracking my eyes open, I see Professor Hulk waiting for me.

"Oh, good, you're awake. You had an allergic reaction to a bee sting, how do you feel?"

"Thirsty," I croak. He hands me a glass of water that was sitting on the table next to him. "I feel fine, actually. A little sore, but otherwise ok."

"Fascinating." He scribbles something down in a little notebook, his eyes wide with curiosity. "Your healing abilities are truly phenomenal. You've recovered from a severe allergy attack in about half the time it would take an average person."

"Huh. That's pretty cool," I comment. "Can I go home? My aunt's probably wondering where I am."

"Oh, sure. And next time, use this." He hands me a small device that looks like a pen. "It's an Epipen. Use it if you have another reaction."

"Thanks." I drop it in my backpack. "Bye, Professor!"

"Goodbye Peter."

* * *

_Alright, another chapter! Please leave a review, follow, or favorite (or all three) so I have more motivation! Thanks!_


	4. Appendicitis

_I am so sorry everyone. I haven't been updating my work lately, but I'm trying to grammar and storyline check my old stories, which kept me busy for awhile (those will all be done at once to keep order) and I was also recently in the school play! It's over now so I'm back for the time being, and I am planning on finishing everything I started. Sorry for the delay, I'll try my best to keep things moving._

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel._**

* * *

Peter's P.O.V.

"Kid. Kid. Pete! _Peter! S_nap out of it!"

"Huh?" I looked up slowly, locking eyes with an angry looking Mister Stark.

"Pete, I called you down for lunch hours ago! Cap and I were going to wait for you, but it seems like you decided to blow us off." He tapped his foot impatiently, glaring down at me. "And what are you doing on the floor? We have perfectly good chairs to sit on." I frowned, looking at my position. I was indeed on the floor, sitting on the carpet lining my closet. Noticing my confused expression, Mister Stark's glare softened.

"I don't... I don't know... How?" I struggled to find the right words to say. Mister Stark's face wrinkled with concern. Suddenly, a sharp pain in my abdomen reminded me of why I was curled up on the floor.

"Woah, woah, kiddo, what was that?" His hands were outstretched toward me, hovering over me. I had returned to the fetal position, curled up tight around my pain, as if it would make it stop.

"Hurts..." I groaned, eyes squeezed shut, barely allowing a single year to slip out.

"I see that, but I need to know where. Pete, you need to tell me now!" His voice was frantic. "Peter! Now!"

"Ab-" I was interrupted by a quick stream of vomit spewing from my mouth. I felt like I was going to internally combust, the pain in my abdomen getting worse by the minute. The vomit, now all over the carpet, had taken the appearance of everything I had eaten in the past 24 hours. Which, if I was being honest, was nothing. I hadn't really had the appetite. Mister Stark took one look at my pale skin and blotchy eyes, and wrapped his arms around me. He carried me down the hall in a hurried walk, calling out orders as he went. Soon enough, I was laying on the examination table, with Bruce- er, Professor Hulk poking and prodding at me.

"Peter. I need you to tell me your symptoms over the last 24 hours," he ordered.

"Uh, well, I haven't been hungry, and- augh!" I grunted as the Professor brushed his fingers over my abdomen, which had swelled up considerably in the short amount of time I had been there.

"I know it hurts, but I need to know everything." Nodding, I continued:

"So much... pain... and... aghh! Hot and... I just threw up." I finished shakily. He lightly placed a hand on my forehead, frowning at me.

"Low-grade fever, loss of appetite, abdominal pain, vomiting," Professor Hulk muttered to himself. "Tony! Did you prep the room like I told you?" Mister Stark poked his head around the corner, worry etched deep into his expression.

"Done. Do you know what's wrong with him?" Glancing at me, the two men discussed the situation quietly, Mister Stark's eyes growing wide at the diagnosis. He nodded his head to Professor Hulk, and walked over to me.

"Hey kiddo, so you've got something wrong inside you, and we need to get it out. You're gonna just sleep for a little while..." A mask was placed over my mouth and nose, and the room slowly faded out, leaving me in my world of nothingness.

~Some time later~

"Pete? Can you hear me?" Groaning, I cracked my eyes open to see a concerned face looking down at me. "Kid?" It was Mister Stark. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I started taking in my surroundings. The room had white walls, interrupted by big windows on one side. The sky was a beautiful reddish orange, fading into a dark navy blue.

"Where... am... I?" I spoke slowly, enunciating my words the best I could. My brain was not processing anything.

"You're in a Stark Industries hospital room, Pete." His expression changed quickly into a frown. "Don't you remember anything?" I racked my brain for an answer, but everything was just too hazy. I shook my head, brows furrowed in my own disappointment.

"Hey, go easy on the kid," Professor Hulk smiled playfully. "The drugs we gave him haven't worn off yet. Extra strength, remember? That metabolism of his makes it difficult to find the right anesthetic."

"Right." Turning to me, he asked, "How are you feeling?" It was then when I noticed the pain in my side. I scrunched my face up, and lifted the sheet over me, pulling back the thin hospital gown. My eyes widened at the sight: thick bandages wrapped around my entire width, thicker on the right side. I then attempted to peel off the medical tape holding the bandages on, but was stopped by a gentle, yet firm hand.

"Might not want to do that, kiddo." Mister Stark looked amused, with a hint of worry. I nodded, my brain fog was starting to clear up. Yawning, I carefully put back both the gown and sheet. "Why don't you get some sleep. We'll come check on you in a little bit." I nodded, my eyes already drooping. I let them shut, immediately falling asleep.

~Some time later~

I woke up suddenly, gasping at the terrible pain I was in.

"Mister Stark! Professor! Please, somebody," I cried. Not even 30 seconds later, Mister Stark came running in, looking rather disheveled.

"What's wrong?" He questioned, panting as he spoke. I grimaced as another wave of pain struck me. My breaths were coming in short gasps, as I struggled to take in air.

"Help..." I gasped, wave after wave of pain washing over me. He seemed to catch on to what I meant, and quickly began messing with my IV. The pain subsided, and I was suddenly very sleepy. I fell back into the pillows, falling asleep.

Waking up for a third time was easier. The pain in my side was fading, most likely due to my super healing. Professor Hulk walked in, but didn't notice me at first. He was immersed in his clipboard, pouring over some information. I cleared my throat, partly because I felt like I hadn't spoken in days, partly to get his attention. The professor glanced over at my interruption.

"Peter! You're awake! How are you feeling?" He questioned.

"Better. It hurts a lot less now."

"Wonderful. We had to perform emergency surgery to remove your appendix. It nearly ruptured, and if we had been 10 seconds behind there would be been major complications. You're very lucky to have gotten off so easily." He explained.

"It didn't seem easy," I muttered. Professor Hulk chuckled lightly, his gentle smile returning to his face. "It hurt."

"Yes, well, without that pain, you could've died, so it's better that you felt that full force. The infections a ruptured appendix can cause are terrible. It's best to get it taken care of quickly." I snorted gently at that.

"Glad to see you're feeling better." I turned to the voice.

"Mister Stark!" I squeaked. "Uhh, thanks. Turns out my appendix was gonna explode! Good thing we got it taken care of, huh."

"Yeah kiddo. Now I want you to recover quickly, I can't have my young hero on the sidelines!" I giggled at his soft orders. "Oh, that reminds me, we need to get you home for dinner. Your hot aunt called me while you were out. Let's get you up."

* * *

_ Yay! I finally updated something! Again, I promise I'll try to finish all my stories, so if there's some in particular you think I should work on first, leave me a comment or pm me to let me know what my priorities should be. Thanks for reading, as always. Love you all!_


	5. Sick Day pt 1

_I owe everyone big time. Oops. Well, hopefully some more updates will help me repay my debts._

_Read my garbage._

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel._**

* * *

Peter's P.O.V.

"Peter! Wake up, it's time for school!" Aunt May called. I groaned, pulling the covers up higher. I shivered from the freezing temperatures of the room. Odd. It's not usually this cold. "Peter!"

"Coming, May." My voice sounded like rocks, a rough sound that strayed far from my usual pitch. Huh. Maybe I finally hit puberty. I carefully shoved the blankets off me, once again shivering from the cold. I stood up, immediately sitting back down with my hand held up to my forehead.

"Pete- are you ok?" Aunt May walked in, concern written across her face.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little dizzy," I tried to reassure her. She looked skeptical.

"You look kinda flushed." She held a hand up to my forehead, checking my temperature. I leaned into her cool touch, but it didn't last long. She jerked her hand away, gasping. "You're burning up!" She ran out of the room, headed toward the bathroom

"May, I'm fine, really- mmffh!" I was interrupted by a thermometer being shoved into my mouth.

"Keep it under your tongue. I'm going to call the school, let them know you won't be there today." I let out a weak noise of protest. I hated missing school. All the makeup work just wasn't worth the day off. She was back quickly, just in time for the thermometer to beep. She grabbed it, frowning at the little digital numbers.

"This can't be right. Hold on, I'll try to find another one." Strange. I wonder what exactly it said to cause May to think it was broken. I stood up to follow her, but was immediately hit by another wave of lightheadedness. I closed my eyes, placing my hand back over my forehead. I carefully laid back down, covering myself with the blankets. It was all too cold. I felt nauseous, my stomach was uneasy.

"I found another thermometer! Here, hold it under your tongue." May looked at me, concern clear in her features. It beeped, and I let her take it. She frowned again, looking back and forth between me and the thermometer. "Peter," she said carefully, "what symptoms do you have?" I listed them off for her. She listened, calculating in her head what was wrong with me.

"Alright. I think you have the flu. I'll stay home with you today, to keep an eye on that temperature."

"May, no, you don't have to babysit me. Go to work, I'll be fine," I smiled weakly. She didn't look convinced. "If something happens, I'll call you. Promise."

"Fine. You better call me if you feel any worse, ok?" I nod. "Alright..." She looked uneasy. "Try and get some sleep, honey. I'll try to get home early." She left the apartment, and I turned over onto my side, shivering violently. I coughed once, which turned into a coughing fit. On the last cough, I threw up all over my bed. Great. I felt too weak to get up and clean myself off, so I lay there, hurting all over.

"Peter! Let me in!" I heard a voice at the door. I didn't have the strength to get up. Suddenly, I heard the sound of the door opening, which caused me alarm. I was powerless to stop whoever just broke into my apartment from stealing, or even murdering me. I cried quietly in my vomit-covered bed, wondering why my last moments had to be so undignified.

"Kid? Are you ok?" The intruder asked.

"M-Mister Stark?" I blinked, wiping my tears off my cheeks.

"Yeah, kiddo, it's me. I got a signal that you were in distress, so I came right away," he explained. "Uh, sorry about breaking in, by the way. Didn't mean to scare you."

"It's ok." I smile, but it turns into a grimace.

"Right. So, tell me, why did I get a distress signal from you?" He took another look at me, finally taking in the vomit on the bed. "Oh, Pete, why didn't you call me? Nevermind, let's get you cleaned up first." He collected the dirty blankets and brought them to the small washer dryer. I say up, slower this time, and shaking stood up.

"Woah, hold on there, kiddo." Mister Stark helped me stagger over to the shower, and set me down on the floor." Get yourself cleaned up. I won't watch. But, just don't stand up. I don't want you dying in the shower," he smirked lovingly. I rolled my eyes, grinning. I closed the shower curtain, throwing my clothes over the top so I could shower. I stretched as far as I could to reach the knob to turn on the water, barely touching it. I switched on the water, letting the warmth flow over my freezing skin. I cleaned off the old puke, and sat under the hot water in silence for a little while to warm up.

"Pete? You ok in there?" Mister Stark poked around the corner.

"I'm ok! I'll be right out." I switched off the water, immediately being enveloped in the icy cold. I shivered, realizing I didn't have a towel. "Mister Stark?" I called.

"Yeah?"

"I uh, don't have a towel," I admitted.

"I can get you one. Where do you keep them?" I explained to him where the towels were, and soon one was tossed over the shower door. I wrapped the rough material around my shivering body. I wanted nothing more than to get back in my bed. I grabbed the handle, pulling myself up to stand. I opened the shower door, carefully stepping down to the floor. My legs shook with uncertainty of the weight they were supporting.

"Mister Stark?" He walked into the bathroom at the sound of my voice.

"Kid, I thought I told you to stay on the ground." He gave me a stern look, before taking pity on me. "Alright, get that towel wrapped around your waist. I got you, just lean on me." His arm snaked around my back, supporting my shaky steps. He practically dragged me into my bed, which had my blankets back on it, still warm from the dryer.

"You didn't have to."

"Kiddo, I was the one who decided to come here in the first place," he insisted. "If I get a distress signal from you, I'll go because I want to."

"How did you even know I was sick? I wasn't wearing my suit." He let out a small chuckle.

"Kid, I have ways of knowing things. I always have an eye on you."

"That's... kinda creepy, actually," I giggled. "But seriously, thanks for helping me out."

"Don't mention it. Hey, speaking of, I'm gonna go find the thermometer. You look really sick," he observed. "Did your Aunt take your temperature this morning?"

"Yeah. She didn't tell me what it was, though. I don't think the thermometer she found was accurate," I explained. A hot flash struck my body, and the warm blankets were suddenly too much. I sat up and pushed them away, sweat beading under my shirt. The dizziness returned quickly, and I held my hand up to my pulsing head.

"Woah, Pete, hold on there. You look like you're about to pass out." I felt like I was going to pass out. "I'll be right back, don't you move." The billionaire ran out to fetch the thermometer, grabbing an ice pack out of the freezer on the way. "Here. Put this on your forehead." It was wrapped in a washcloth, and I will admit that the coldness of the pack really was helping. The thermometer was shoved into my mouth, with an instruction to keep it under my tongue. It beeped, and he took it.

"What does it say?" I asked hazily. I was starting to unfocus, my eyes became droopy.

"103.2. That's really high, Pete," he stated, voice laced with concern.

"Yayyyy, high score," I said unenthusiastically. I got a shocked look directed toward me. "Hey, whatcha lookin' at?"

"How are you even this sick? You were almost fine 10 minutes ago," he panicked slightly. "What do I even do with a sick spider-kid?"

"I would ask Fluffy." Mister Stark turned to look me in the eye.

"Who?"

"Fluffy," I answer, pointing a shaky hand behind my mentor's back. "He knows."

"He knows what? Kid, who is Fluffy? What does he know?!" He was growing hysterical, worried for my safety.

"He knows," I repeat, losing consciousness.

* * *

_Yeah, I know it's kinda unrealistic but I mean it's also a teen with spider powers so maybe that's normal for him, idk_

_but anyway_

_There will be a pt 2 probably, if I feel like it or maybe not? Eh we'll find out. Don't wait up tho_


	6. Sick Day pt 2

_I guess this is a pt 2 then_

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel._**

* * *

Peter's P.O.V.

"Pete?! Kid, please wake up, c'mon..."

"M'ster Star'...?" I mumble.

"Yeah kiddo, it's me. Can you open your eyes for me?" His voice was full of hope. I groaned, cracking my eyes open to view the room I was in. It wasn't mine...

"Where 'm i?" I slurred. Something was definitely wrong.

"The compound. Your fever was too high to manage at your apartment, so I brought you here. The drugs should be wearing off soon," he explained.

"Drugs?"

"For your fever. It spiked up to 104. That's really dangerous." As I listened, my brain fog slowly cleared out as the situation set in.

"May! She must be worried sick, I need to go home-" Mister Stark placed a strong, but gentle hand on my chest, pushing me back down.

"No way, kiddo. You just came down from a potentially deadly temperature. Anyway, I already called your Aunt. She was understandably concerned, but I told her you were in good hands." I crossed my arms, scowling.

"So I have to stay here? How long?" I questioned.

"That all depends on you, kiddo." He smiled. "Well, and those drugs we have you on. Speaking of, I should get on top of that." He took a thermometer off the little bedside table, shoving it into my mouth. It beeped, and Mister Stark took it from my lips.

"Soooooo... can I go home then?"

"101.8. Sorry, Pete. Just a little bit longer should do it. It won't feel long, though. These drugs for your fever will knock you right out. Have twice already," he chuckled, poking my vein with a needle.

"He-yyyyy," I relaxed almost immediately, the medicine setting into my bloodstream.

"Yeah... we had to up your dosage because of your weird spider metabolism. Sets in quick, doesn't it?"

"Yeee...aaaahhhh," I sighed. The sheer amount of the drug running through my bloodstream was enough to kill an adult. So it was taking me quick. "... G'night."

"Goodnight, kiddo," he chuckled. The world shorted out, leaving me in the dark abyss of peaceful sleep.

~Some time later~

I woke up to a loud tapping noise. I looked around, searching for the source of the sound, but saw no one.

"Hello?" I called tentatively. Suddenly I remembered something. "FRIDAY, where's Mister Stark?"

"Mister Stark is in the lab working. Do you want me to alert him that you are awake?" the AI offered. I thought about it for a minute, weighing my options.

"No, don't bother him if he's busy. I'll be fine," I decided.

"Ok." And with that, the AI was silent, leaving me to wallow in my loneliness. Maybe I should've asked for the billionaire. No, I don't want to bother him. He's busy anyway...

I quickly realized there was nothing for me to do in this room. The boredom crept around my mind, making my fingers tap and my leg jiggle from the odd feeling of not having something to do. I frowned at the floor. That's it. I can't just sit here. I have to do something. Fueled by a mix of determination and boredom, I sat up, dangling my legs off the side of the bed. Here goes nothing. I lowered my feet to the floor, pausing at the cold feeling on my toes. I shook it off, sliding myself to the edge of the bed. I slowly stood up, using the bed as support.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" I froze.

"M-mister Stark!" My voice sound oddly strangled. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here. Why aren't you in bed?" He questioned. I stumbled over my words, trying to come up with a good reason for what I had been doing. His expression softened slightly, and he gently pushed me back into the bed. "Maybe you feel better, but you certainly aren't healthy. I can still see the flush on your cheeks. Go back to bed. If you wake up, just ask FRIDAY to get me, but no more getting up, you hear?"

"Sorry." He sighed, reaching for the thermometer. Once again, it was back under my tongue.

"You're ok, kiddo. Just try to rest a little more." He waited for the beep, before reading the digital numbers. "100.3. You're almost there. Just lower it a little bit more and you can leave." He pricked my vein once again, the large amount of fever reducer quickly taking away consciousness.

~Some time later~

"Kid! Pete! Wake up, c'mon." Mister Stark was tapping my chest, while I struggled to open my eyes. I was just so tired...

"Wake. Up." It was an order this time, the usual sarcastic tone that belonged to Tony Stark was gone, replaced by a more frantic, more demanding version. Nevertheless, the voice belonged to the billionaire. I cracked my eyes open, and saw my mentor's face immediately relax. "Kiddo, can you hear me?"

"Mmhm," I groaned.

"Oh, good." He sounded extremely relieved, which added more confusion to my already clouded mind. "I thought I was gonna lose you there." Once that sunk in, I was more alert.

"What?" I wondered. Mister Stark's expression changed to one of guilt.

"I uh, may of accidentally given you way too much fever reducer," he chuckled nervously. "But you seem to be ok."

"A little drowsy, but yeah," I assured him.

"Thank God for your super metabolism," he smiled. "Well, anyway, the fever reducers worked, so you can go home when you're ready. But first, why don't you have lunch with me? How do you feel about tacos?" I grinned.

"I would love some tacos, Mister Stark."

* * *

_Yayyy happy ending or whatever_

_Well there you go he's healthy again, congrats I guess_

_I was actually sick yesterday so that was fun, anyway you should leave a review with one shot ideas, if I pick something you suggest I'll give you a shout out. Thanks for reading!_


	7. Hero

_I'm cold so have this amazing one shot_

_Happy New Year also_

_Pretend he doesn't have a suit heater for me ok_

_Warning: character death_

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel._**

* * *

Peter's P.O.V.

I swung through the city, weaving between buildings, searching for something to do. It was snowing, not too heavy yet, but forecasted to get wet and sticky within the hour. Patrol was almost over anyway. I wouldn't want to be caught in nasty weather like that.

"Suspicious activity on 21st and 4th."

"Thanks Karen," I reply, heading to the intersection. As usual, Karen was right. A group of men stood in a tight knit circle, blocking their actions from curious eyes. I couldn't tell what they were doing from above, either. Maybe a drug deal? I leapt closer, trying to get a better view. With my close proximity, I could see the men were planning a robbery, the nearby bank their target. I snuck even closer to the robbers, but slipped on the icy surface I had landed on. Instead of my intended stealthy landing, I dropped down heavily.

"Hey, it's Spiderman! Get him!" Suddenly all the men pulled out weapons, ready to attack. A gun shot went off, barely missing me. I dodged several more bullets, jumping from streetlight to streetlight.

"Today's forecast: snow, ice, and a chance of bullets!" I quipped, leaping backwards off a flagpole. I shot a few webs, trapping 3 of the men. Dodging another bullet, I slid underneath the legs of one of them, knocking him out from behind. I fought and dodged and webbed until every robber was taken down. I admired my work, brushing some imaginary dirt off my hands. I felt my spidey sense tingle, but I chalked it up to nothing. There was nobody left out on the streets, everyone had retreated indoors for the night. Or so I thought.

"Nighty night, Spiderman." I whirled around, and was immediately shocked with a modified taser. I seized with the intense shock running through my body, exhausting me until I couldn't find enough energy to even move.

"Maybe this will teach you not to get involved!" He growled, grabbing my limp arms and dragging me toward the water. I whimpered, unable to move and unsure of if I would be able to survive if thrown in the water. The freezing temperatures of the air made me shiver, even with the suit on. How would I last in 32 degree water? Maybe if I was able to climb on some of the ice near the edges of the bay... if I could actually move.

He tossed my unresponsive body over the railing, and I plummeted into the freezing water. I tried paddling, but the movement I was actually able to produce wasn't enough to keep my head above water. I sunk down, thankful that my suit had oxygen in it, but upset that it didn't have some type of heating system that would actually help me warm up from this. I frowned as I felt my thoughts slow down as my body temperature lowered.

"Kaaaarrrrreeeeennnnn," I slurred. "Cccaaaannn yyyooouuu pppuuuutttt uuuppp myyyy viittaallss?" The slowness in my brain made the simple request much more difficult than it should've been.

"Yes Peter. Currently your heart rate is 70 beats per minute and dropping. Your temperature is 93 degrees Fahrenheit, and your breathing is slowed. Diagnosis: hypothermia. Treatment: seek warmth immediately." I saw the tiny numbers on the screen swirl around my vision for a moment, but it didn't last long.

"Hhooowww loonnngg ddooooo I hhaaavvvveee?"

"If your hypothermia isn't treated, I predict around 40 minutes until death." 40... was that a lot? My brain was scrambled. I shivered violently inside the suit, trying to think of a way out. But my muddled mind wasn't of much use. I watched the numbers on the screen drop. 91 degrees. I couldn't remember how bad that was or not. 90 degrees. The numbers kept dropping steadily.

My body was going numb. Everything felt like pure ice, like I had frozen veins. My heart rate was down. 60, 55, 50... everything was slowing down quick. I wonder how long I've been down here.

"Peter, your heart rate is dropping significantly. Your temperature is 89 degrees Fahrenheit. I'm afraid if you don't warm up very soon, you will die." But I barely even heard the AI's recommendations, my brain was shutting down.

I watched tiredly as the numbers changed. One said 87. The other one was less. 45, 40, 35. What did they mean? 34, 33, 32, 3-

~Time Skip~

A woman in her late 40s watched the news in her small NYC apartment.

"A body was found in the Gowanus Bay this morning. Police say the body belonged to Spiderman, the vigilante of New York's city streets. The identity of Spiderman has been revealed to be 16 year-old Peter Parker, who went missing a month ago."

The woman watching let out a loud sob.

"Many people we interviewed agreed that Spiderman was a hero. Most of the city has changed their opinions ever since he went missing, the sudden rise in crime disturbing many of his critics. And although the famed hero is no longer with us, being pronounced dead after discovery of the body in the bay, memorials are already being held around the city in his honor. He helped a lot of people."

The woman out her head in her hands, the news of the death of her nephew shocking her to the core.

She never realized how many lives he had saved, the hearts he had touched. But she couldn't help but think about how many _more_ lives he could save it how many _more _hearts he could touch. He touched her heart. And he did it without the mask, without the flashy suit or the superpowers. He had done it just by being an incredible nephew. By being kind, always. By being patient and understanding. He was her hero. Not Spiderman, but Peter Parker. He was her hero.

* * *

_That was sadder than I was thinking oops but I tend to write how I feel (and since I became single this morning I'm feeling really depressed)_

_I hope you enjoyed it, check out my other Spiderman stories "The Pain of Existing", "In the Life", or "A Leap of Faith"._

_If you're a fan of the Suite Life series, check out my one shots I posted, "Stuck With You" and "Here I Am in Your Life". Neither has gotten much recognition (mostly due to the age of the series) but both have quality. More like those to come._

_Leave a review if you want to request a one shot! I give shout outs to anyone who requests an idea._


	8. Temperature

_hi there, haha so I'm back, sorry lol_

_I'm warning you, I know next-to-nothing about medical stuff sorry_

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel._**

* * *

3rd Person P.O.V.

When Peter woke up, he felt like crap. His nose was stuffy, and he sneezed- once, twice, thrice. He felt like he was on fire, but at the same time, colder than ice. His arms and legs were heavy and tired. His throat felt like he had screamed himself hoarse, but then again, maybe he had. Peter couldn't remember. All he knew was that, in that moment, nothing felt right.

"Peter! Are you up yet?" Peter's aunt May called from outside the door. Peter grumbled in response. "I'll take that as a yes. Don't forget decathalon practice after school, and I'm coming home late."

"Kay," Peter mumbled. He heard the click of the door locking behind his aunt. He smushed his pounding head into the pillow, trying to block out the sunlight. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, and the noise was deafening. The spider-powered teen groaned, knowing school was going to be a nightmare. Peter's mind slowly registered his thought. School... school! He needed to get going if he didn't want to be late.

Peter sat up, wincing at the stabbing pain in his head. Nevertheless, he stood up, walking down the hall to the bathroom. He stared at his disheveled reflection in the mirror, frowning at the small scar trailing along his cheekbone.

_That should've healed by now... _he thought, tracing it lightly with his finger. Peter shrugged it off, chalking his scar up to bad luck. He grabbed his bag, and started his walk to school.

The noise of the city streets resonated inside Peter's head, shining a mental spotlight on his headache. It didn't help that his spidey sense seemed to be on the fritz, warning him much too late to be of any help. Peter had a lot of close calls on his walk to school, barely avoiding getting run over at least three times. And school was no walk in the park either. Of course, Flash picked today, of all days, to be especially persistent in his bullying techniques.

"Hey look everybody, it's Penis Parker!" Flash sneered, pointing at Peter. The spider-powered teen put his hood up, walking faster. "Why are you in such a hurry, Parker?" Flash followed after him, smirking. "What, are you afraid?" Peter took a sharp turn into the locker room, sitting in one of the stalls toward the back. He put his head in his hands, his headache becoming more intense. Peter couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. He just felt so incredibly dizzy, and Flash's yelling wasn't helping.

"I'll find you, Parker. Don't think you can escape that easily," he growled, storming out of the locker room. Peter wasn't entirely sure why Flash went after him. Maybe he did something? Peter didn't know. He sighed, standing up to head to class. The dizziness came back, making Peter stumble and lean against the wall. Black spots rapidly started taking over his vision, until all Peter could see was darkness.

* * *

"He's waking up." Peter groaned, slowly forcing his eyes open. He blinked, looking around at his surroundings.

"Hey Pete, how do you feel?"

"Awful," he admitted, bringing a hand to his head. He suddenly frowned, a confused look on his face. "Wh't happen'd?" Tony and Bruce shared a glance.

"Pete, you fainted. I got an alert about your vitals, and had to go get you from the locker room," Tony explained. Peter nodded, soaking in this information, seemingly new to the spider-teen. Tony frowned, turning to his science bro. "Bruce?"

"106.3 degrees. It's gone down a bit, but it's not nearly enough," he informed. Tony stared back at Peter in shock. He had never seen anyone with a fever that high before, and the medicine Bruce had given him earlier didn't seem to have much of an effect. Sure, it had gone down from the terrifying 107.1°F it had been when they first brought him in, but that has been hours ago, and Peter wasn't doing too well.

"Is there anything more we can do?" Tony asked, hope straining through his voice. Bruce looked wary, but one glance at Peter's glazed over eyes, flushed face, and sweaty forehead was enough determination for him.

"There is, and it should be strong enough to lower his fever quickly." Bruce bit his lip. "But it's untested. Theoretically, if it was to work, Peter would be up and back on his feet in no time."

"And if it doesn't work?"

"His fever will go up. And Tony, there's no telling how high it could get," Bruce stated solemnly.

"What are the chances of success?" Tony asked skeptically.

"No idea. It's untested." Tony nodded.

"Ok." The iron hero cast a worried glance at his teenage apprentice. He had never seen Peter look so weak, so horribly ill before, and he didn't like it one bit. He would never admit it, but Peter was like a son to him, and it would break him if he ever lost the young hero. "Do we have any other choice?"

"Not really. If Peter was normal, the medicine would be worked better, but his super metabolism is too fast for regular drugs to work," Bruce stated. He nodded at Tony, running to fetch the medicine. Tony went to Peter's bedside, the teen's sickly appearance bringing him close to tears. He looked like he was barely holding on to consciousness, his eyes droopy and dull. Tony was scared. He didn't have any power in this situation, no way to sacrifice himself for Peter. And it terrified him.

Bruce hurried back, a large bag of a yellowish liquid held close to his chest. He hooked the bag up, inserting an IV into Peter's arm. Bruce worked quickly, setting up a virtual thermometer so he and Tony could watch Peter's temperature closely.

For the first few moments, nothing happened. Peter's temperature stayed at a steady 106.3°F. Tony and Bruce watched, anticipation and anxiety gnawing away at their sanity. Then, what Tony feared became reality. Peter's temperature jumped to 107.5°F, and steadily rose to a frightening 108.7°F. Tony was frozen to his seat, unable to believe what he was seeing. Peter was fading right before his eyes, the teen's half-lidded gaze staring into his soul.

Then those lidded eyes slipped shut. Peter was now at 109.2°F, and the spider-kid's chest was barely moving up and down. Tony let a tear slip down his cheek, one of disbelief and pain. He had assumed that everything would be ok, just as it always is. Everything always turned out ok in the end. This had to work.

"Tony... I'm so sorry," Bruce apologized, his heart dropping. Peter was nearly at 110°F, which would be almost certain death. He left the room, the knowledge that he had killed Peter, even by accident, was too much for him to handle.

Tony, however, remained in Peter's room, eyes still glued to the screen. He watched Peter's temperature hit 109.8°F, more tears dripping down his cheeks. But then, the impossible occurred. The numbers starting dropping, and fast. Tony leaped out of his seat, staring at the monitor in awe.

"Bruce, come quick!" He screamed, his eyes never leaving the screen. Bruce shuffled in, keeping his head down.

"Look, Tony, I'm really sorry, I thought-" his voice was shaky, on the verge of tears.

"Shut up and look!" Tony was right. Peter's temperature had dropped significantly, now at 103.4°F. Bruce almost screamed with relief. Immediately, he got to work, grabbing fresh ice packs and cold cloths to cool Peter down further. The young boy shivered, but Bruce kept trying to cool him down.

"Mister Stark?" The voice sounded confused and exhausted, but wonderfully _alive_. Bruce had never felt so relieved, and Tony was just glad to have his spiderling safe.

"Peter, how do you feel?" Bruce questioned. His temperature now read 101.2°F.

"Kinda cold. My head still hurts." Peter thought for a moment, rubbing his temples. "I'm a little hungry too." Both adults let out a chuckle at that.

"So you feel ok? Quick, what's 86+109?" Bruce quizzed. Peter gave him an odd look.

"195?" He answered. Bruce sighed with relief.

"Good. You remember what happened?" Peter frowned.

"... Yeah." He paused. "So, I guess the 'untested drug' worked?" Bruce bit his lip, avoiding eye contact. Peter looked frightened. "I mean, I'm alive, aren't I? Didn't it work?" Peter was becoming more nervous, his breathing picking up speed.

"Peter... it worked, yes, but not the way I expected it to," Bruce said, choosing his words carefully.

"What do you mean?"

"Your temperature went up, Pete. It went really high up," Tony jumped in, slightly pale. "I thought you were going to die." Peter's jaw dropped.

"H-how high?" Peter stuttered.

"Almost 110°F." Peter's once flushed cheeks turned a ghostly white.

"I almost died," he whispered, staring off into space.

"Yes, Peter, but the medicine did end up working," Bruce reassured him. "You're going to be ok."

* * *

_ok that's the end I'm done_

_that was waaaaaaaayyyyyy too long and I'm sorry lmao_

_Anyway, if you haven't read The Pain of Existing yet, now's the time! I recently uploaded the final chapter!_


	9. Coronavirus

_in the spirit of good ole coronavirus_

_I'm no doctor and the news gives me anxiety so idk how much of this is accurate_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel.**_

* * *

3rd Person P.O.V.

"As cases spike in the U.S., businesses do their part to help flatten the curve. Non-essential businesses are closing, schools are closed, and Broadway had gone dark. The New York City streets are practically empty, most of the city's residents being in quarantine." Peter watched the news lady half-heartedly, waiting to see if anything new happened.

"New York state is recommending people stay in their homes, even if they aren't sick. Currently, New York City is the hotspot for confirmed coronavirus cases." Peter snorted, glancing out the window. He was so antsy, anxiety and boredom building up in his mind.

It had been nearly a week since Peter had left the house. Living in Queens, he knew quite a few people who had already been infected. He had promised himself he would stay inside, if not for himself then for May. Peter sighed. It was just so boring, not being able to see his friends, or go out as Spiderman. He even missed school. Sure, he still had online classes, but they were rather disorganized. Peter stood up, pacing back and forth.

"It wouldn't hurt to get some fresh air," he mumbled. He raced to his room, undressing quickly and suiting up. Peter opened the window, hoping May wouldn't notice his absence. He hopped outside, admiring the strangely quiet city. He swung from buildings giddily, finally letting out all his pent-up energy from the past week. He stopped by a local restaurant, one of the few still open in the city. Peter bought a sandwich, swinging away with his lunch.

On top of a tall building, he unwrapped the sandwich, munching away happily. The city was quiet, at least quieter than usual. It was peaceful, sitting on that ledge while he ate. Peter checked the time, eyes widening when he realized how late it was. He cursed loudly, pulling his mask back over his head and swinging back to his apartment. He snuck in through his window, taking the suit off and quickly replacing it with his normal clothes, or rather, his pajamas.

"Peter, are you in there?" May called through the door. He had come back without a minute to spare. "It's six o'clock, do you want to help me make dinner?"

"Sure Aunt May!" Peter responded, pulling his shirt over his head. He checked for visible bruises, mostly out of habit. There hadn't been any criminals to stop, since mostly everybody was locked in their homes. He went to the kitchen, greeting his aunt softly.

"And just what were you doing all day?" May questioned, raising an eyebrow. Peter stiffened, racking his brain for a believable answer.

"Uhh... sleeping?"

"The whole day?" May frowned. Peter kept the lies coming, not wanting to admit that he had been outside all day.

"Most of it. I watched the news for awhile too." That was true, at least. May nodded slowly, coming to the conclusion that her nephew was just being lazy.

"Oh, ok. And what about school? Did you do some work today?"

"Yes, May, I did. I told you, I can handle it." Peter grabbed the bag of chicken nuggets out of the freezer. He held it up, silently asking for her opinion.

"Sure, Peter. What should I set the oven to?"

* * *

About a week later, Peter began to feel worse. He was coughing a lot, and simply walking around the house got him out of breath. He immediately knew he had been infected, all his random knowledge from the news talking about symptoms told him that much. He wheezed nervously, laying down in his bed. His skin was hot to the touch, and his lungs were tight. Peter hadn't felt that since before the bite, from his asthma attacks. It was a terrifying feeling, knowing that he was now part of the global pandemic, and that he could potentially end up spreading it to May.

Peter's breath caught in his throat, his quickened breathing causing his inner panic to swell. The thought of spreading the coronavirus to his aunt was worse than knowing he had it. He pushed his head into the pillow miserably, promising to himself that he would do everything he could to make sure May stayed safe.

His plan started with a text. He first had to come up with a reasonable excuse to why he was leaving.

**Peter: I have a big project to do so I'm spending a few days at the tower**

_May: why is this the first I'm hearing of this project? And you know you're not supposed to leave the apartment._

**Peter: I know but this project's really important**

**Peter: I promise I'll be careful**

_May: fine, but please try to social distance_

**Peter: thanks May ur the best**

Peter pumped his fist in celebration, suiting up as Spiderman. The material felt tighter than it usually did, but he assumed it was just the coronavirus screwing with his lungs. Peter took a shaky breath, and jumped out the window. He swung his way to the tower, taking several stops to catch his breath. He finally arrived in the lobby, taking the elevator up. It was then Peter began to have his doubts about his plan. What if they didn't want him there because he was sick? His heart beat way too fast for comfort, his foggy mind confusing him at every thought. Peter stepped out of the elevator on wobbly legs, his breaths short and quick.

"Kid? What are you doing here?" Peter stumbled forward a few steps before colliding with the floor.

* * *

"-ter? Peter can you hear me?" Bruce frowned, shining a penlight into the teen's tired eyes. Peter groaned, rubbing his head.

"Yeah. What happened?"

"You passed out after stepping out of the elevator." Bruce put his light away, shrugging. "You were hyperventilating. But you don't seem to have a concussion, so you should be good to go."

"Wait." Peter coughed, wincing. "I think I have-"

"The coronavirus?" Bruce finished, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, sorry. But, with your healing factor, it should be cured within a few days. Just try to keep it contained, ok?" He smiled, offering a mask for Peter. "Oh, and let me know if you find yourself struggling to breathe on your own." Peter accepted the mask, returning a weak smile.

"Thanks, Mr Banner."

"No problem, Peter."

* * *

_ haha so that happened_

_I wonder what people will think of this in like 10 years or so, like we're living through history rn damn that's crazy_

_hope y'all don't get the coronavirus_


	10. The Bite

_ok so I know this tool me a LONG ASS time to update, and I'm so sorry I've just been busy_

_This is my take on the events of when Peter was first bitten_

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel._**

* * *

3rd Person P.O.V.

It was a sudden jolt of pain, the two tiny fangs sinking into Peter's neck. He jumped, swatting at the pest. The effect was apparent immediately, his senses exploding with new input. But it was too sudden for the teen. Peter blacked out, falling heavily on the ground.

He awoke slowly, frowning at the pounding headache beating its way through his brain. Peter blinked, taking in his surroundings. His glasses sat uncomfortably on his nose, blurring his vision slightly. The teen hesitantly pulled them off, eyes widening at the crystal clear image that lay in front of him. Whatever had bitten him had somehow fixed his vision, restoring the 20/20 that had been stolen away from him many years ago.

All of his senses were... more intense than they had been before. Peter looked around, quickly spotting the crushed spider nearby. He stood up, frowning. He felt dizzy and hot, the effects of the strange arachnid taking its toll on the 15 year-old.

He stumbled his way out onto the streets, a strange tingle creeping up his neck every so often. It seemed to be a warning, letting Peter know something would happen before it did. And, naturally, Peter was freaked out. He knew this wasn't normal, none of this was. There was something wrong with him, something that may have done him some good, but seemed to have a darker side.

Peter placed his hand against a wall, leaning heavily on his arm as he tried to ignore the pounding in his head. He breathed in and out, the soft sound echoing in Peter's head. He could hear his heartbeat, his strange senses making him hyper-aware of the erratic thumping. He groaned, standing up straight. Peter pulled at his arm, seemingly stuck to the wall. It felt sticky under his palm, and the confused teen panicked. He ripped his hand off the wall, inspecting it for any substances that could've caused him to stick. But it was just another wall, and Peter was just imagining it.

Or so he thought.

The 14 year-old stumbled into his apartment, mumbling a greeting to his aunt and uncle. They both watched him with concern, but didn't pry. Peter collapsed onto his bed, letting a soft groan escape his lips. Every inch of him was on fire, a terrible burning sensation that left the teen writhing in pain. He passed out shortly after, the pain quickly overtaking him.

Peter woke up a few hours later, with no headache, no pain, no burning. It was as if none of it has ever existed, which he supposed was very possible. It wasn't exactly rare for Peter to have strange dreams. He tentatively pressed his hand up against the wall, remembering the stickiness from earlier. When he pulled away, his hand stuck to the surface, just as it has before.

"What the...?" Peter whispered, eyes wide and staring intensely at his stuck hand. He tugged at it, the flimsy sheetrock cracking as he pulled it out of the wall, still attached to his hand. He gaped at the hole in his wall, the realization dawning on him.

He had superpowers.

And damn, were they annoying. _Ok, let's see... I have sticky hands, and superstrength..._ Peter shook his head.

"Why me?" He asked no one in particular. "I don't want this... I just want to be normal, please," he pleaded, a piece of him believing that the powers would leave him, just like that. Hey, if he could get superpowers in the first place, obviously he didn't know everything. But the logic part of him knew no amount of pleading would make this go away.

Peter sighed. He glanced at the broken sheetrock half-heartedly, silently willing his hand to unstick from the material. And, much to his surprise, the jagged chunk fell to the ground, magically detached from his skin. He jumped at the noise, his ears oddly sensitive. Peter frowned, raising an arm to adjust his glasses. But when he went to grab them, he swiped at air, his glasses missing from his face.

"Oh no... my glasses!" He exclaimed quietly, frantically searching around for them. He couldn't afford to lose another pair, May and Ben would be so upset...

"Wait." Peter stopped, looking out the window to see a crystal clear scene below him. He glanced around his room, noticing how he could see perfectly, despite his lack of glasses. _Better hearing, perfect eyesight..._ It all seemed to good to be true.

"Peter?" May called gently, knocking on the door. "Are you ok?"

"I'm ok, May," Peter answered, making his way to the door. "What's up?"

"Oh, well Ben wanted to talk to you. He's in the kitchen," she informed. Peter nodded, heading out to find his uncle.

"Peter! Here, why don't we go on a little walk, hmm? Let's go." The two of them headed out, walking down the street together. Ben was talking, but Peter was barely listening. He was hyper-focused on the noises of the city, many of which he had never noticed before. "... with great power comes great responsibility. You got that?"

"Uhh... yeah." That was an obvious lie. Ben sighed, shaking his head.

"Alright, Peter, if you say so." He turned, walking into a small grocery store. He grabbed a few basic items- milk, eggs, and a small pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream, Peter's favorite. They were heading to the checkout when a man in a black mask ran into the store, a gun in his hand.

"Everybody get down! Put your hands behind your back!" He yelled. Peter got down panickedly, threading his fingers together behind his head. Ben, however, was oddly calm, refusing to move. "I'm not joking around, you better get down NOW." The man threatened, pointing his gun directly at Ben. Peter froze from his spot on the ground, his doe eyes wide with fear.

"Get. Down. _Now_." Ben glared at the armed man, standing his ground. The robber chuckled darkly. "If that's how it's gonna be, old man, then I'll play along." He grinned wickedly from beneath the mask.

Peter heard a loud gunshot, and watched as his uncle's limp body fell to the ground.

* * *

_oops haha_

_part 2?_


End file.
